AHRI
“Please, tell me you didn’t sleep at Diablo’s again?” Felicia scolded me.
I shrugged, hugging my uniform tightly and rubbed my eyes. It was five in the morning and Felicia, me, the chef and Teddy were here to set the diner before opening. I headed into the bathroom. Felicia following behind me, to help me out with my dress, but mostly to talk or scold.
“You need to cut your hours.”
Yep, to scold.
“I’m fine. You know I sleep at Diablo’s. What’s the point of going home for an hour or two just to sleep then come here?”
Felicia smacked her lips and, prepped the toilet seat before she sat down.
“I’ll catch up on my sleep this afternoon before my bar shift, Mom.” I rolled my eyes.
Felicia was always worried about my health, but I could take care of myself. I’m a big girl who needs the money. I stripped down to my underwear, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. I saw Felicia’s eyes turn wide in the small cracked employee bathroom mirror.
“What. Is. That?” She locked down on the hickey. I thought I’d done a decent job of covering up. Guess I didn’t.
“Nothing,” I said as if I didn’t notice.
“Yeah that ‘nothing’ looks like a hickey the size of fucking Texas.” Felicia jumped off the toilet seat. She stood tall above me, examining the hickey up close and personal. “You fucked your roommate.”
My rosy cheeks gave away my answer while I threw on my yellow dress. Felicia zipped me up and tied my apron in a cute bow.
“Something like that,” I said.
“Alright, Miss. Vague. Explain.”
“It kind of just happened. He was—the way he—he’s a persistent man with a mouth.” I babbled.
I focused on the hickey, trying to spread makeup over the parts I’d missed, but I gave up. Dropping my hair down, I played around with it until I’d temporarily covered Jack’s mark. I went back out to the diner and flew around the place to make sure it was ready for opening.
“A talented mouth?” Felicia licked her lips and shot her eyebrow so high I thought they were going to fly off her face.
Yes. “More like a slick and dirty mouth. He talks like he owns the world and everyone in it. He’s got that…raunchy humor.” I tried to hide my feelings, but Felicia clearly saw how much I liked him.
“Are we talking like Deadpool raunchy? ‘Cause I know you’re a sucker for that man.”
“Yeah, but amp that up a few notches.”
Felicia let out a wild laugh. About a year ago she’d found out that I had loved a total of three men my entire life. All of them fictional characters. I blame Luke for being a comic book nerd and telling me all the stories about his favorite anti-heroes until one day I gave in and read the comic’s myself.
You got Frank Castle, The Punisher, all man, brutal and vengeful. James Howlett, Wolverine, brawny, fierce and short-tempered, but loyal with good heart…deep down. And finally, there was Wade Wilson, Deadpool, the wild, sexy, arrogant, unpredictable mercenary comedian with the big mouth. Yes, Ryan Reynolds did an amazing job of portraying him, but Jack Baron would have perfected him.
In my eyes, they were perfect. All man and real. They weren't a superhuman alien from a different planet that tries to help anyone but gets weakened by a green rock. They were real. They’ve done bad things for revenge, for the people they love, or simply to survive. Sure, the men I loved were fake, but realistic in my eyes. They had fucked up pasts, drenched with trouble and pain, similar to mine. So, I’d always related to them.
“You like him, don’t you?” Felicia asked as she followed me to the front to make sure all the tables had condiments.
“Oh, by the way. I got my birthday off.” I changed the topic.
“Hold on what? You got Gomez to get you the night off? How?”
“You know how a few times a year some stupid soul pisses off Gomez?” I wiped down the table, getting rid of a spot someone from the night shift missed.
“Papi Gomez came out yesterday?” Felicia laughed. “Fuck, I love me a good Papi Gomez fight.”
I nodded.
Papi Gomez was what we like to call Gomez when he gets overprotective of his workers, mostly me since I was the only girl. Yesterday when I came back with a hickey, Gomez was on high alert, asking me if I was okay and if he needed to show the skinny punk a lesson. I told him it was all good.
Later in the night, when Jack drank on an empty stomach. He got a little flirty. Asking me for a dance, trying to buy me drinks, etcetera. Jack kept drinking, and then started playing with my hair, my nose stud, and dimple by poking them, and caressing my cheek while trying to go in for a kiss. I denied him each time followed by, ‘It was a mistake,’ which made Jack pull a fake pouty face.
Jack had been delicate with me, but I could tell his body was screaming to take me again, and I wanted him, bad, but I already decided it wasn't going to happen. Not to mention, I didn't want to get fired. I love bartending. I’d love to work in a nice neighborhood one day and not have to worry about money. As much as I liked Gomez, there was no way in hell I wanted to spend the rest of my life here.
The last drink pushed Jack over the edge when he told me he loved me, which wasn’t the first time I’d heard it. Seems like alcohol always has this effect on people. I couldn't tell you how many drunk men (and women) confessed their love to me or whoever they thought I was. By the time Jack told Gomez he loved him and tried to touch his mustache. Gomez had enough.
Regular bar owners would have kicked someone like Jack out, but not Gomez. Not when it’s a good excuse for a wager fight. A fight that involved them punching each other in the gut as hard as they could until one of them gave up, fell on the floor, or cried. Crying was how it usually ended, but never for Gomez. He always won. He’s a bulky man, ex-marine, and punched like a truck.
“So, what was the wager? Let me guess. Gomez still wanted his bikini girl set tap handles, right? He’s been trying to get a sucker to pay for his new ladies for over three months now.” Felicia snorted. “And what did insert-your-mans-name-here want?”
“Not my man. His name’s Jack.” I quickly said. “What he wanted was a paid day off for me.” I bit the inside of my cheek, still feeling flustered that he’d asked for that even though I knew his intentions were purely selfish.
“Well shit, your man got you the day off, and it’s paid? We’re going to be dancing in the club while Gomez is paying for it.” Felicia’s blonde afro bobbed with her cackling laugh.
“It’s not paid. Jack lost.” I puffed a laugh. “Gomez punched him three times—two more punches than anyone has ever taken—until he spat blood and fell on the floor. Gomez almost shed a tear after Jack’s third punch. He said it was the best fight he had in years, possibly ever. He still made Jack pay for the full set of handles, but Gomez gave me my day off. No pay. You should have been there; I haven't seen Diablo’s that excited in a really long time.”
“Dammit!” Felicia whined. “I wish I was there. Seems like he’s a real Prince Charming.”
I laughed. A genuine laugh. “Calling Jack Prince Charming would be like calling me the next Princess of Wales.”
“I don’t know. He made time for you to get laid after you couldn't do it yourself for four years and you get to celebrate your birthday on your actual birthday which I know you haven't done in years. Years! Seems like he’s the closest thing you can get to Prince Charming in Birch Park.”
“If Prince Charming were dressed in black, covered in tattoos and scars, and looked like the love child between G-Eazy and Dave Franco with black hair and amber eyes. Sure, Jack is Prince Charming,” I retorted.
Felicia let out a moan and took a seat on the yellow bar stool which desperately needed to be taped. The gray foam was popping out of the fake yellow leather seat, looking like a gruesome pimple ready to burst.
“Oh, he sounds sexy as fuck. If you don’t want him, can I?” She bit her finger and raised her other hand up like she was in school ready to be picked. Or in my case, ready for me to say yes.
I shot her a dark glare. My eyebrow twitched, my eyes narrowing on her full blonde afro, luscious glossy lips, and flawless mocha skin. Felicia’s smile got more devious and wicked with each second that passed.
“Busted. You jealous bitch.” She smirked. “And please? Like I would ever do you like that. I got my own sexy Devon, right now.”
I threw my rag at her in frustration, but Felicia caught it and chucked it back at me.
I hated feeling this way, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn’t help but feel like Jack was all mine, even though I didn't want him. He was trouble making my gut flutter and quake, unsure if it was butterflies or if I was just going to be sick.
I'd always been drawn to trouble and darkness. So naturally, I loved my men the same way.